Bueller? Bueller?
by Malady Pond du LesHeuresRoses
Summary: She had been worried this moment was coming for some time now, yet it still took her by surprise. / Farkle learns something about his father's past...and himself. Not a very long one-shot. / written before I Am Farkle aired


_A/N: This ficlet can be taken alongside my other Girl Meets World story, Seconds, or as a standalone narrative; either way, I felt like this should be posted separately. I'm not sure if I'll ever do anything more with this; I just needed to get it out of my system._

 _~at the bakery~_

"Hey, Sandy?" Farkle began between bites of his Danish.

"Yeah, Fark?"

"I saw you talking to my dad the other day."

"Mm-hmm."

"Well . . . it seemed - How long have you known each other?"

She had been worried this moment was coming for some time now, yet it still took her by surprise. "Oh . . . uh . . . We knew each other a while back. Years ago, we were - we were catching up."

"Oh. It seemed kind of . . . intense."

A shadow crossed Sandy's eyes. "N- uhhhh . . ." She sighed in resignation. "Can you keep a secret?"

He blinked once then nodded.

She eyed him briefly. "Okay. But you can't tell anyone. Not Lucas. Not Riley. Not Maya."

"Cross my heart and may I never take over the world."

She smiled at his wording and took a deep breath before proceeding. "Harley's not my first husband, and -"

"Whoa, hang on a second. Does he know this?"

"Yes, of course. He knows my past; Harley and I have no secrets. Well, he - my first husband - had some business dealings with your father."

"S-so-o-o-ome business? What kind of business?" Farkle asked, his curiosity further piqued.

"I don't know. My ex-husband was of the _'Don't worry your pretty little head over this'_ type." She rolled her eyes. "Very secretive, that man."

"Was this before or after I was born?"

"It . . . It was mostly before you were born," she admitted. "And some after."

His mind raced. Perhaps she could answer questions that had been plaguing him. Only one made it past his lips. "Were my parents happy then?"

"Oh, Farkle." She smiled sadly. "Oh, Farkminster Bueller. Your parents were gloriously happy."

"W-what happened between them? When did they -"

Sandy shook her head. "It is not my place. This is something you should discuss with your father."

"But he never wants to talk about this," he mumbled.

She bit her lip as she considered what to say. "Farkle, if - when you find -" She blew out an exasperated breath. "Just remember that your parents love you very much, and things happen for a reason."

* * *

Half an hour to closing time, the bakery was empty and Sandy started her nightly cleanup.

"What did you say to my son?" an irate woman demanded as she burst through the door.

Sandy took a deep breath to steady herself. "What did he say to you?"

"He asked me how Stu and I could have gone from _gloriously happy_ to _this_. Whatever he meant by _this_."

"Fine. You want to know? He'd seen me talking to Stuart the other day. He asked me how we knew each other and for how long. All I said was that my - that someone I used to know did business with him years ago; we hadn't seen each other since, so we were catching up. And then Farkle asked me if his parents had been happy when I knew them."

The angry woman swallowed the words she had wanted to spit at the baker. "Just stay away from my son," she hissed.

"Your son. Right. Stay away. Except my husband works at his school. We're good friends with the parents of one of his best friends. And he keeps running into me, however inadvertently. But don't worry your pretty head about it. I won't tell him about -" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

* * *

 _~mid-morning, a few days later~_

He met her at the front steps of the school. After the busy morning he'd had, it was good to see her smiling face.

"Hey, hon," she greeted with a kiss once she reached Harley's side.

"Hey," he echoed.

"What's wrong?"

"Farkle . . ."

"What? What is it? What's happened?"

He shrugged. "He's just bummed. His parents aren't speaking to each other. Any time he asks about - He feels terrible, like their problems are his fault."

She let out a heavy sigh. "This is my fault. If I hadn't - I should have left it at -"

"Ssh, ssh, now." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "He told me what you said. It made him feel good. It was Minkus and that wife of his that - Here, let me take this -" He grabbed the picnic basket from her. " - and we'll go inside and Minkus."

"M-?" She turned to see Stuart approaching. She steeled herself for a barrage from him, but, instead, he smiled.

"Hey, Sandy. Listen, I know what Jennifer said to you. She had no right to do that. I mean, you _are_ Farkle's - Anyway, he's asked about things I don't really want to talk about, but I think I need to. And I want you there when I do."

"Are you sure about that, Stuart? Won't your wife be upset by that?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter anymore. All we've ever had is problems. You two free this afternoon?"

"Um, yeah. I think so." She turned to her husband, who nodded.

"Sure. Where do you want to meet?" Harley asked.

"How about I get us a hotel room? I get the feeling I may need one after this. Shall we say five o'clock?"

* * *

 _~in a hotel corridor~_

"You sure you're ready for this?" Harley asked. "It's a big step."

"It's huge," Sandy acknowledged. "But, yeah, it's time." She rapped on the door.

"Hey," Stuart greeted the couple. "Uh, come on in. Did you bring . . ."

"Yes," Sandy whispered. "He's going to have a lot of questions."

"Yeah. I know. But he's had them for a while now."

"Hey, Sandy. Hey, Harley," Farkle called from the dining table.

"Hey, kid," Sandy called back. "So, um . . ." She turned to Stuart.

"Well, let's not beat around the bush. Go ahead and tell Farkle . . . what you wanted to tell him the other day," Stuart prompted.

She took a shaky breath. "Okay. Um. I brought this photo album; it - whew. All right. I had a sister - Allie. She was, oh, she was one of the nicest people you'd ever meet. When she was in college, she met a boy. I'd never seen her so happy. When they got married -" She dabbed at her eyes.

"What does this have to do with me? With my parents?" Farkle asked softly.

"I'm getting to that. See, uh, my sister got married and helped her husband get his business started. Then they had a baby." She pulled the photo album from her bag and showed him the first photograph.

"That's you," he gasped. "With lighter hair."

She smiled sadly but shook her head. "No, that's Allie. Holding her baby. Holding _you_."

"M-me?" he squeaked.

Stuart raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, son. I -"

"So, Jennifer's _not_ my mother," he whispered more to himself than to anyone around him.

"She _did_ raise you," Stuart noted.

"Yeah," Farkle scoffed. "Wait. That would make you my aunt, Sandy. And _Uncle_ Harley?"

The three adults nodded.

"Why the lie?"

His question was like a gunshot to their hearts. Stuart and Sandy started talking over each other. Farkle slammed his hands on the table and stood. "HEY!"

Silence fell upon the room.

"Okay, Dad. Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Stuart sank into an armchair. "At first . . . You were so young when your mother died. She was - _is_ \- the love of my life. It was so painful trying to - When I met Jennifer, she seemed nice . . . Once you were old enough to understand, she talked me out of telling you. Said it would only confuse you. The fact that we'd lost your birth certificate didn't help any."

"So you just let me believe that this woman - this woman who calls me a wimpy little nerd - was my mother? What was my real mother like?" He looked expectantly at his aunt.

"She was a lot like you," she murmured. "Sweet, intelligent, always wanting to see the good in people. Boy, could she dance. She could've had her pick of boyfriends, but, when she met your father, there was no other man in the world for her."

"God, that woman was incredible," Stuart remarked. "Even if she was feeling lousy, she could manage a smile. She always wanted to fix things, y'know? Make everybody better."

"She wanted the world around her to be as pretty as - as the image in her head. Such an optimist, my little sister. And she always, _always_ tried to see the good in everybody."

"Sounds an awful lot like you, doesn't it, kid?" Harley chimed in.

That, at last, made Farkle smile.

"There's one more thing," Sandy announced. "It's just a copy, but - " She reached back into her bag and retrieved an envelope.

Farkle pulled out the piece of paper and grinned. "Farkminster Bueller Minkus. M-my birth certificate? Where did you find this?"

"Allie had me keep a copy of it - among a few other things - in case . . . Well, we lost a lot of things when we were younger, so she wanted a backup."

Stuart was amazed. "She never told me about this."

"I'm sorry, Stuart. I should have said something to you ab- "

"No. It's fine, Sandy. You had your own problems to deal with. After all these years, Allie can still find a way to surprise me. The important thing is that my son knows the truth now."


End file.
